


The kids who came to save the world

by coffeyrac



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: AND GAY, Everyone is Trans, Multi, everyone is trans and gay and nothing hurts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-07
Updated: 2015-08-18
Packaged: 2018-04-13 12:36:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4522236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coffeyrac/pseuds/coffeyrac
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jean Valjean runs a trans youth group that Les Amis all attend. Gavroche goes too. Shenanigans ensue. Lots of fluff, a long-running game to see who can mess with Enjolras the most, Gavroche ends up with infinite parents. It's a fun time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Wherein Grantaire calls Bahorel a dude

It had been just over four months since the start of Jean Valjean's trans youth group, and several regulars had begun showing up every Friday. The group wasn't exactly spectacular - there was a meagre selection of board games, whatever healthy meals Jean could prepare in the community centre's tiny kitchen, a few colouring books, and a fund to provide binders and bras to youth in need - but there were plenty of boisterous and excitable youth to fill out the space and break in the already-worn chairs.

Since the start of the group, two separate cliques had begun to emerge. There were the kids who came to play video games, eat free dinners, and loaf around causing shenanigans - and then there were the kids who came to save the world.

At least, that was how Jean acknowledged them in his head. They sat apart in a corner, always heatedly discussing the fate of the world and how to circumvent the imminent disasters being brought about by capitalism and other such evils, when they weren't complaining about tuition fees and midterms. Enjolras, the ringleader, would somehow become the focal point of the circle, regardless of which threadbare and sagging couch he'd taken control of, always flanked by Courfeyrac and Combeferre. The rest of the group would sprawl around, overflowing the arms of sofas and loveseats and shouting about social justice until they had to be told to be keep it down.

Courf had devised a game that the entire group ("the crew," as Joly stubbornly insisted upon calling them) played every week, with an alarming fervour. The name had originally been "who can annoy Enjolras enough to make him talk for over an hour about the same subject without repeating the same point more than twice," but somewhere along the way it had just been shortened to The Game, a change which the entire crew had agreed was favourable. Points were awarded for every minute Enjolras spent speaking and totalled at the end of each night to declare the week's champion.

"So I still really don't get what you mean," Bahorel said. Her thick brows were knitted in an expression of fierce concentration, and she twirled her sideburns between her fingers as she spoke. "Where exactly does relationship anarchy differ from polyamory?"

"I think Enjolras explained that already," Marius said.

Bossuet leaned over, putting an arm around Marius's shoulders and shooting a glare at Joly, who could barely contain eir laughter. "Yes, but Ellie didn't understand."

"I missed the finer points," Bahorel added innocently.

Enjolras tucked his blond curls behind his ears and sternly replied, "Okay, Ellie, I'll explain again. Relationship anarchy is relationships without restrictions - no necessary definitions, no 'tiers' of importance, and if one partner doesn't want to -"

"And another thing," Jehan cut in, "why is everything about anarchy? Why can't we have, like, relationship socialism? Relationship theocracy? Abolish the two-party relationship system by all means, I agree, but have you considered relationship oligarchy? We can be the faction in power. Just consider it."

"Hey, y'all, can I get your attention for a sec?" Jean's voice cut over the conversation, somehow managing to divert Enjolras's heated rebuttal. "I need to take this phone call. Don't break anything while I'm gone."

"Who's in charge?" Bahorel asked loudly.

"I'm still in charge, just absent. I meant it when I said don't break anything," Jean said, looking pointedly at Bossuet, who held up his hands defensively.

There was some hubbub as Jean left the room, mostly kids peeking in the kitchen to see if there were any sloppy joes left, but for the most part, the biggest disturbance was Enjolras plunging back into his diatribe on relationship anarchy, and a tiny fourteen-year-old sliding onto the couch between Courf and Jehan.

"Oh no, gross Gavroche," Courf whined theatrically, miming tearing out his blue curls. "What have I done to deserve this torture?"

"You love me," Gavroche retorted. He shouldered Courfeyrac hard enough for Courf to mock-yelp in a way that betrayed how much it had actually hurt. Kicking his shoes off, he sprawled against Courf and draped his legs over Jehan's.

"And in conclusion, though they are easily confused, polyamory and relationship anarchy are actually distinctly separate things, both with unique and notable histories as relationship styles," Enjolras said, with the air of someone who has climbed a particularly challenging mountain.

"Yes! Sixteen minutes and 38 seconds!" Bahorel crowed, startling Joly so badly ey squeaked and hiccuped.

"Pardon?" asked Enjolras.

Bahorel immediately sat back down and smiled innocently. "That means thank you for explaining."

In a stage whisper which would have been audible over a stampede, Ferre said, "I believe Elle should be awarded a penalty of two minutes, for triumphing over Jehan's distraction. And a foul to Jehan to be applied to their next play."

Jehan pouted mightily, but the majority of the players agreed with their referee. Ferre was about to make the verdict official when Jean poked his head back into the room and asked for Gavroche.

"What'd I do?" Gav asked sullenly.

"Just go, buddy. You can have a turn when you come back," Courf whispered. He tousled Gav's hair and handed him the one shoe within reach.

Gavroche jammed his feet into his sneakers and ducked outside with Jean. With half a cushion suddenly available on a couch, there was a small scuffle between Joly and Feuilly to claim the space. 

"I don't know why you keep trying to fight Joly, dude, it never works out," Grantaire said. He flipped open his sketchbook and added, "you're gonna end up with eir feet on your head or something."

"No, this time I'll balance the cane on his head and jam my feet up his nose," Joly corrected him.

Bossuet winked and chimed in, "you can jam your feet anywhere on me."

"Wow, gay, dude," Grantaire deadpanned.

Enjolras caught R's eye and said sternly, "watch the slurs."

"Hey, it's not a slur. Literally everyone here is gay. I'm gay. Bossuet and Joly are gay together literally all the time. Just add Musichetta for the ultimate gay."

"Okay, if anyone here is the ultimate gay, it's me," Courf said insistently. "How many of you have I kissed?"

Bahorel snorted. "That just makes you desperate."

"Say literally one more time," Ferre shot at Grantaire.

"It's literally my favourite word." Grantaire smiled sweetly and batted his eyelashes.

"I literally want to strangle you right now." 

Grantaire pulled an offended face. "Whoa, now, Ellie, what did I just tell Boss about sounding that gay? Come on, dude."

"You can't call her dude, dude, she's a girl," Marius said, looking slightly affronted. 

Bahorel collapsed dramatically into his lap, putting a hand to her forehead and gasping, "my hero!"

The arrival of Musichetta was enough of a distraction to break up the argument over whether or not it was an offense to call Bahorel a dude. Dumping her backpack on the floor next to Bossuet, Musichetta kissed Joly on the forehead and began untying her boots. "Help me on with my heels, love," she said by way of greeting.

"Which love?" Joly asked, nuzzling against her neck.

"Boss can do it, he's the one on the floor," she replied. She curled her fingers into Joly's hair and lifted her feet into the heels Bossuet offered. "Mm, that feels better. How is everyone? Grantaire, while I'm putting on my lipstick, would you like some?"

Grantaire snorted, though he looked enviously at the gigantic makeup bag Bossuet was handing to his   
girlfriend. Musichetta applied makeup the way she approached life; she leapt in and threw her whole self into it, heedless of the mess she made along the way. Joly seemed unbothered by the clouds of eyeshadow dusting eir pants, although ey began to cough and had to hike eir shirt over eir nose.

At last, changed out of her work clothes and properly made up, she settled on the floor and pulled Bossuet back against her chest to snuggle. Joly slid off the couch to join in the cuddling, and Feuilly scrambled to take the place ey had vacated. He had all of thirty seconds to enjoy his victory before Gavroche walked back into the room.

"Okay, get up, Gav's back," Courf said, tickling a particularly sensitive spot on Feuilly's side.

"I just sat down!"

"And now you're getting up. Gav totally called savesies on this seat."

Always the mediator, Ferre looked up with some interest and asked, "when? I didn't hear him call it."

"I heard him," Jehan said hurriedly. "Just before he left. You were too busy calling my penalty to hear it."

There was enough of a hubbub over the foul, especially now that Musichetta was there to argue Jehan's case, that Feuilly gave up the seat graciously and allowed Gavroche to snuggle up to Courf. Courfeyrac wrapped an arm around his shoulders and asked softly, "you okay there, buddy?"

Gav sighed. "Yeah, I'm cool. I just wanna close my eyes for a couple minutes, okay?"

"You got it." Courf pulled Gavroche closer and settled the kid's head on his shoulder. "If you need to talk, I'm here, bud."

"Mmhm." Settling against Courfeyrac, Gavroche gave another sigh, deeper than the last. He tucked his legs up underneath him, happy to let his attention drift as Enjolras, goaded by the foul discussion, started on a tirade about ethics in gaming.


	2. Wherein there is a bird named Keith

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: birds have very few morals and even fewer filters.

Just when it looked like Bahorel would take the victory, Jehan asked Enjolras his opinion on how betta fish are displayed in pet stores.

“And you know, you have to consider the fact that they don't change the water nearly often enough,” Enjolras added, twenty-two minutes later. “That leads to all sorts of nasty infections, and I really think that at the very least the managers would be concerned that their stock is in salable condition.”

“Time to pack up,” Jean called over the conversation.

Bahorel started sweeping crayons and markers into their plastic tub. Grantaire made tiny noises in protest, grabbing at the crayons and hurriedly scribbling across his page. “I'm not done, Ellie.”

“Sucks to suck, pretty boy. You got a little something on your face.” Bahorel went to wipe off some of the marker from Grantaire's face, but Musichetta stopped her hand.

“He looks cute like that, doesn't he? Why don't we add some more?” she asked, carefully uncapping three shades of blue and descending menacingly on Grantaire.

“So I just honestly think that, if they install long, sectioned glass tanks, not only will it improve the quality of life for each fish, it will also make it easier and more efficient to clean the tanks and provide filtered water,” Enjolras concluded.

Combeferre checked his watch and said, “twenty-three minutes and 47 seconds. We have a new champion.”

Gavroche began to stir. Courf tousled his hair and said softly, “hey, buddy, you're just in time to watch Jehan do their nerdy little victory dance.”

“They won?” Gav stretched his legs and hunched his back, looking somehow more exhausted than he had when he'd fallen asleep. “What was the question?”

“Betta fish,” Courfeyrac said.

“Betta fish?” asked Enjolras. “You know what, I forgot to mention – the diet that they feed them is really not acceptable.”

“Do I get points for that?” Courf asked hurriedly, before Enjolras could get into his stride. “I mean, I totally got in a followup there.”

Ferre considered for a moment. “All right. A bonus of one minute added to your next play.”

Grantaire emerged from the mingled attentions of Bahorel and Musichetta, his stubbly face adorned with swirls of blue. “Joly, Bossuet, please try and talk some sense into your girlfriend. We're supposed to be cleaning up and last time I checked that didn't involve covering me in marker.”

Joly snorted. “She carries me to the bus stop when I can't walk all the way there. If I try to stop her she will pick me up and put me somewhere very high.”

“You count as my workout,” Musichetta said, kissing eir forehead.  
“Roly poly Joly,” added Bossuet. Joly giggled and puffed out eir chubby cheeks.

Eponine had a peculiar way of suddenly showing up in the middle of the group and settling in as though she'd been there the whole time. Courfeyrac suddenly noticed her perched on the arm of the sofa and stood to let her sit beside her brother. She blinked her thanks at him and slid onto the seat, settling her too-full backpack at her feet. “Hey, little bird,” she said, “I guess you heard about the phone call.”

Gavroche just pressed his face against her arm. Trying to make his voice sound casual, he asked, “how much of my stuff did you get?”

“I saved your spare binder and got the charger for your DS. Food, pants, some clean t-shirts, socks, headphones. We just need to figure out where you can stay at night, okay?”

Courfeyrac suddenly leaned in, very intent on the conversation. “What's going on?”

Although Gav's voice shook a little, his face remained impassive as he answered, “I got kicked out, I guess. There are shelters and stuff though so I'll be okay. Right?”

Courf's face was usually alive and smiling, but it had suddenly become stony and hard. He rubbed his palms over the bristles of his undercut, chewing his lower lip and jiggling one of his legs. The whole of his body was soft, but with his shoulders hunched forward over his deep chest, he had turned to something chiselled and uncomfortable; there were no sharp angles in the soft roundness of his body, but he gave the impression of granite with his grey eyes so cold.

“Marius,” he suddenly said. He hadn't raised his voice very much, but it cut through the conversation nonetheless, and the entire crew turned to look at him. “Did you clean the laundry off the couch today?”

“Uh, yeah, but I kinda just dumped it on our floor,” Marius said.

“Doesn't matter. Gavroche, you're not going to a shelter. You're coming to our apartment.” Gav looked up at Courfeyrac, his eyebrows raised, and Courf added, “It's a lot safer than trying to get into a shelter right now. It's almost nine, it's dark out, you don't stand a chance at getting into one of those beds unless you show up at like three in the afternoon, and I can sleep on a couch, no problem. Besides, we have birds. You'll like them.”

“Okay. Thanks,” Gavroche said softly.

“We can't pay you,” Eponine started, but Courfeyrac cut her off.

“We're not gonna ask a kid to pay to sleep at our place after he gets kicked out. Look, if he doesn't like it there, we find a more permanent solution for him tomorrow. There's no point trying to figure it out tonight. It's too late, we're not gonna get any work done, no places that we could call for help are even open, so we're gonna come back to my place, make some hot chocolate, watch a musical and go to sleep.” Hoisting the backpack onto his shoulders, Courfeyrac looked Eponine in the eye and added, “I'm the last person in the world to let anything happen to this guy. If you're worried, you can come stay too.”

“Consider this,” Jehan piped up. “We make a fort and watch the musicals from inside it.”

“Slumber party!” cheered Joly, as Bossuet helped em to eir feet and handed em eir cane.

Marius paused. “I mean, don't you have a paper to write, Courf?”

“I can write a paper in like, thirty seconds,” Courfeyrac boasted. “I just need to throw some buzz words in Word, get really mad, drink four cups of coffee, and then hit print. It's a foolproof method. How do you feel about a slumber party, Gav?”

“Can Ponine come?” he asked, twisting his fingers. “I want her there.”

“Yeah, of course,” Marius said.

“Of Courf,” corrected Courfeyrac.

“You're not invited to our slumber party anymore,” Joly groaned.

Bossuet helped Musichetta cram her makeup bag back into her purse, adding, “Courf is never invited to anything, but he always comes anyway.”

“There's no party until Courfey _rad_ arrives.” Courfeyrac winked and blew a kiss to Musichetta, who flipped him off and laughed.

Gavroche held very tightly to Eponine's hand as the crew got up and meandered in the direction of the building Marius and Courfeyrac lived in. Enjolras had an apartment nearby as well, and the neighbourhood was close enough to campus that most of the crew could live in residence and still walk over to have coffee or drinks at the apartment Courfeyrac had christened the Batcave.

(“I thought you didn't like Batman,” Grantaire had said casually, the first time he came over to see the tiny apartment. The floor was strewn with decidely un-Batmanlike fabric and thread; Marius had just been kicked out of his grandfather's house, and Courf was in the process of moving his sewing supplies out of the second bedroom and into the living room, so Marius didn't have to sleep on top of a serger.

“I don't,” Courf had told him, standing with his hands on his hips and shaking his head critically. “He may as well be named Capitalism-Man or something. That's why I took his cave.”)

The apartment was almost always a disaster. It was a tiny little two-bedroom with a disproportionately large living room. Each bedroom fit a bed, a desk, and a shelf – or, as Courf usually put it, “big enough to hold a dresser, too, if I lost about a hundred pounds.” The living room fit two sofas, a couple beanbag chairs, a trunk full of floor cushions, and a pull-out couch, all of which were usually covered in rolls of fabric or balls of yarn. On more than one occasion, Marius had sat down on a freshly pinned shirt and wound up with pins in the seat of his pants.

Anyone entering the apartment was greeted with a cacophony of peeps, chirps, and the occasional shout of a very rude word from the bird cages near the balcony door. Gav was the first through the door, and his face lit up when Keith, the conure, swore loudly and enthusiastically.

“Cool,” he breathed, dropping his backpack on the floor and running over to encourage the bird.

“We can't make him stop doing that. I wonder if it's because everyone is delighted when he does,” Courf chuckled. He opened his bedroom door and flicked on the lights. “Bed, etcetera. Not much of interest in here. Don't touch the dinosaur pillow, that one's mine and if it doesn't smell like me it's weird.”

“You're weird,” Jehan told him.

“Be that as it may, dinosaur pillow is off limits. If anyone needs them, I've got a couple pajama shirts. Gav, you'll need one, right? Anyone else? Other than Jehan. Flower child, you don't even have to ask, I know I'm irresistible and my clothing is even more so,” Courfeyrac said, winking at Jehan and kissing their forehead.

Joly looked at Bossuet. “I don't know if I have the spoons to go back to our place and get my jams.” A soft shirt, the perfect size for Courf but big enough to fit Joly and Bossuet at the same time, descended on Joly's head and slipped off em onto the floor. “That'll do fine.”

Marius raised his hand and said, “I wouldn't mind a shirt.”

“This is your apartment, nerd, you have your own. Or, you know, just take mine. I don't care. Bahorel, you're in charge of pulling out the couch bed thing and getting enough sleep space organized for everyone. Pull our mattresses out if you have to. Feuilly is in charge of hot chocolate. Joly is on standby for when Bossuet inevitably burns himself and half the rest of us.”

Gavroche looked up from the bird cages. “Can I see the birds?”

Marius walked over and opened up Keith's cage, asked the bird to step up onto his hand, and then carefully placed him on Gavroche's shoulder. “Talk to him, tell him your name, and he'll like you.”

Eponine had seated herself firmly on the couch, watching the ruckus with her knees tucked under her chin. She hadn't spent much time around the crew aside from Marius, and her eyes carefully tracked the unfamiliar motions of his friends. Every so often she would glance at Gavroche, who was feeding Keith grapes.

“Why Keith?” Gavroche asked.

“Because it's hilarious,” Grantaire said. “Like, we all use our last names, and it sounds ridiculous unless you're us. So we all have the weirdest names, and then there's Keith. It was my idea, by the way,” he added proudly.

Enjolras had been fiddling with the TV, trying to find a decent musical on Netflix and sighing loudly at the subpar selection. “Anyone object to just going to youtube and watching Starship again?” he asked.

Ferre's eyes lit up as she said, “that's my fave.”

Mugs full of hot chocolate were passed in a chain from the kitchen until everyone was sprawled across a cushion or a sofa with a mug and a blanket. Gavroche looked a little uncertain about sitting down with Keith still on his shoulder, until the bird fluttered over and perched himself on Marius, begging for a good scratch under the wings.

Courf had settled himself with one arm around Jehan's shoulders and the other around Marius's. Gavroche carefully inserted himself between Jehan and Courfeyrac and pirated their blanket to wrap himself up. Marius reached over to put Keith in his lap, and Gav gently stroked the bird, who was swearing softly in contentment.

He'd thought he wouldn't be able to sleep, but within a few minutes, his eyes were closing and his head was falling against Courf. Gavroche yawned so wide he could have swallowed a football and Courf shook him awake. “You gotta take your binder off before you sleep, buddy, that's the deal.”

“I don't wanna,” Gavroche muttered.

“Okay, how about this? I'll make it a rule. All the binders come off now. I'll take mine off too. Let's go, you can use my bedroom.” Courfeyrac urged Gavroche to his feet and stood up himself, stretching and groaning. “Dibs on the bathroom. First one back wins. Bossuet, you go use Marius's room please.”

Courf considered himself an expert at taking off a binder at top speed, but by the time he got back to his spot, Gavroche was curled up on the dinosaur pillow, fast asleep.


End file.
